


Grey noise

by Phtho_nos



Series: Are you listening? [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Persona 5 Protagonist is from Inaba, Sojiro being a dad, Violence, hes like... nanako 2.0, hes the best - Freeform, little booboo akiren needs a hug soMEONE GIVE MY BOY A HUG, yes boys, you dare think that akiren wasn’t a sweet roll as a kid and was like nanako???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phtho_nos/pseuds/Phtho_nos
Summary: He remembers a past he’d rather forget, but he’s unsure whether remembering it was really a bad thing or not.Sojiro worries sometimes...





	Grey noise

When he saw the conditions this Yusuke Kitagawa lived in, he was instantly reminded of his childhood; of long dusty hallways and broken floorboards.

He would hide from the drunken monster who would come into the house late at night, promising his mama that he would keep quiet and sleep peacefully while she entertained it.

He could never get to sleep over the sounds of smacks and screams, wails and cries. More often than not, he’d find himself crying as well, despite mama’s wishes. 

He knew the pains of having to live confined to one space, much like Kitagawa-san. But unlike him, Kitagawa-san needn’t hide from his father figure (who they soon learned was manipulating him from the start). 

Kitagawa was free to leave at his own whim, and was granted whatever supplies he so wished; contrast to his bleak, penniless youth, eating what others gave and saving what they could in secrecy as to make sure the drunken monster wouldn’t take it.

However, while he himself had grown into a somewhat responsible and upstanding teenager, Kitagawa-san seemed lost in his own views of life.

He was like a child trying to decipher what exactly a computer was, and he often seemed to get caught up in his own delusions as well; launching into sudden spouts on what Love was depicted by, or pain or desire. 

He, however, had never had the time in his childhood to cling to such pointless observations, rather simply focusing on how to grow and survive in its stead. 

He did not envy Kitagawa-san, no, but simply related to him more so than to the others. They quickly grew to become close allies and then friends, and he didn’t mind this.

-/-/-/-

He had gotten home from school and entered the cafe when Sojiro called for his assistance.

It was rush hour, so more customers than usual would show up. He’d been getting better with crowds lately, as he’d have to being in the capital of Japan. 

Sojiro had opened up to him a little more after the whole Kamoshida fiasco, and he’d suspected Sojiro had just put the dots together after hearing about the fall of the medalist PE teacher and after seeing his countless bruises.

It wasn’t anything new to him, pity that is. He’d received it a lot back in his home town, him and mama having to carry the pitying eyes of most townspeople whenever they traversed the complicated roads just to get to the local supermarket. 

He vaguely remembered the place having an advert on the television which he’d sing along to in joy when it played. 

The jingle of the doorbell brought him back to reality as Sojiro straightened up; a plump man, red of face and tilting slightly to one side, which seemed angry enough to snap, tapped his shoe against the mahogany floorboards at the base of the serving bar.

The man was quite obviously drunk, if his breath and slurred speech was anything to go by. 

Sojiro knew the man, that was obvious enough by the fact that he didn’t even seem surprised when the man started provoking him, and the man was angry at something Sojiro had done, it seemed.

They were lucky the last customers had left five minutes earlier, though he was confused as to what all this “legal guardian” and “child benefit” stuff was about. 

The stench of alcohol hit him head on, luring old, broken memories to the forefront of his brain. He didn’t want to remember, but some things, such as this, were out of his control.

He was reminded of broken plates and the smell of iron, of flickering lights and raw adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart beating too loud and his breath too quick to grasp.

Mama was on the floor, blood dripping from her head. He thought she was dead, was sure she was dead. 

And over her body was the drunken monster, swaying and murmuring to himself, a bloodied bottle still raised after having hit the woman. 

He was frozen with fear, and didn’t even blink when the monster dropped his bottle and opted to grab his hair, pulling, pulling it from his scalp.

The pain was clouded by the sheer shock of the prior events, and he was just waiting for himself to reach the same fate as mama by now.

The drunken monster, however, had other plans. He toyed with him, bending his limbs the wrong way and letting out a satisfied chuckle whenever a sharp crack was heard. 

All he could do was sit, still and lifeless, as he was tortured and beaten, and at many points during this, he wondered himself whether he was dead or not (and even then, he would rather death than this). 

His skin was bruised, his arms unmovable. He could only hear his heartbeat by now, thumping faster and faster behind his battered ribs, the only reminder that he was still alive.

He doesn’t know what else he did, the drunken monster, and he’s sure he’s glad he didn’t. Those memories were bitter and left vomit at the back of his throat. He didn’t want to vomit.

The next thing he knew, there were police at the door, and ambulances out the front; he vaguely remembered a man coming through the door, with short silver hair and some stubble around his chin. A detective, if he recalled correctly. 

He remembers him clicking his fingers in front of his face, trying to garner his attention. He didn’t know where the drunken monster had gone, and didn’t bother trying to think about it. Dojima-san (as he learned later his name was) assured him that he was safe, and he just had to take his word.

He was brought back to reality when Sojiro-san snapped his fingers in front of his face, much like the detective had, and only realised he hadn’t been breathing when he felt his throat tighten and body swaying. 

He was ushered into a booth and he noticed the red-faced man was gone. A glass of water sat below him, but when he tried to pick it up, he found his hands shaking too much. 

Sojiro noticed this, and simply handed him a straw to drink through, and he wondered if Sojiro had experience with this kind of break-down. 

He felt ashamed he had to put Boss through this, nonetheless, and attempted to slip up the stairs when his water was finished. 

Sojiro noticed (of course he would) but only helped him up, much to his surprise. He was still shaking, but his heart beat had calmed down to a reasonable degree by now, and was no longer the only thing he could hear in his head.

Morgana, sensing his distress, plopped down next to him when he made it to the bed, and he found himself unconsciously stroking his hair after a short while. 

Sojiro made his way back downstairs, somehow knowing he needed some space. 

They didn’t talk about it after that, and he assumed it was simply because Sojiro didn’t care, despite the worried looks thrown his way every morning from then on. 

-/-/-/-

A few days later, it appeared on the news the change of heart. Madarame was a wicked man, and deserved nothing less than jail and public discrimination. 

It was on the television as he was having his breakfast (curry, of course), stating that he’d received a calling card, much like Kamoshida had, and that he had admitted to all his crimes of plagiarism and abuse. 

He listened with only half an ear, and only noticed when he got up that Sojiro-san was listening too, and not trying to hide it like he normally did. 

He was glad they were changing some hearts indirectly, and was almost tempted to inform Sojiro-san of his involvement in all of this, but he kept quiet.

When he left that day for school, Sojiro-san seemed in a better mood. And briefly, only briefly, he wondered if Boss was actually starting to care about him.

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmmm I couldn’t help but write moreeee. Look at my little boy, he deserves the world ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
> 
> I don’t know whether my next updates will be as consistent as this one, but I’ll try to update more frequently. :)))
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!!!


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